The Moments I Did Not Live
by girlinshipwreck
Summary: Vivien struggles to reconcile the life she has with Tom with the life she had with the Doctor. {One-shot, Season 3, AU}.


**The Moments I Did Not Live**

_"Wake up," the girl said calmly, her eyes inhumanly blue in the pale oval of her face. _

_Vivien stared at her, confused. The girl stared back at her, tilting her head to the side, the wide sleeves of her crimson kirtle falling over her slender wrists. For Vivien, it was like looking into a mirror, her features echoed in the reflection of a stranger, both almost of the same age and height, Vivien just slightly taller. But the girl's hair was as fair as Vivien's was dark, the expression in her odd eyes serene compared to the chaos that crashed together in Vivien's gaze. _

_"Wake up," the girl said simply - _

Vivien jolted upwards, making Tom mumble in protest, before groaning and turning onto his other side, his arm slipping from where it had been flung over her bump. She sat there staring into the darkness, heart racing. For a moment, she wanted to run and find the Doctor, before remembering those days were long gone. She was First Lady now, a title she still couldn't get her head around, and First Ladies did not run, they _glided_. Or so Marina Peralta had attempted to joke, Vivien retorting she was more duck than swan, especially now she was reaching the waddling stage of her pregnancy. Marina had just smiled coldly before gliding off herself, leaving Vivien glaring in her wake.

She knew Marina had her eye on the Presidency, and in Vivien's opinion, Marina was more than welcome to it. Ever since Tom had announced he was running for Congress, it had become a bone of contention between them, her initial disbelief being swiftly replaced by dismay when he was sworn in as President of the New United States. She had violently opposed his success until the Doctor had talked her down, stating she wasn't the only one who needed Tom; that a nation needed him more.

But as far as Vivien was concerned, the rest of the world could go to hell for all she cared, if it hadn't already done so. She was unexpectedly expecting Tom's child, the pair of them trying to salvage what was left of their relationship for the sake of the baby. She was fighting for her own future, never mind anybody else's. It was all that mattered to Vivien, even as she struggled to reconcile loving a man who was only doing his duty by her.

But Tom hadn't seen it that way. There was a world waiting to be rebuilt, a new order to establish. Aliens were no longer the enemy but allies uniting with humanity against a common enemy. He had the baby to think of now, as well as Vivien and his sons. He wanted a world that was safe for them. And he could only ensure this by forging the future himself. And as the Doctor had further pointed out, Tom was the only one to trust both aliens and humans; the only one able to lead all species into the dawn. The rules had changed, Tom Mason rewriting history, a history Vivien was part of. There was no point fighting the future, so Vivien had unwillingly surrendered, grudgingly agreeing to support Tom in his endeavour.

Vivien lay back down, huddling herself against Tom's back, her hand cradling the curve of her belly. As ever, she was living in fear over losing the baby, terrified it wouldn't survive the dangers that came with having a hybrid as a mother and a human as a father. If she'd been born a hybrid, it would have been different, but her body had been ripped apart and restructured, Vivien nearly losing herself in the process. She'd already lost one baby due to what she was, and she wasn't going to lose another, even at the expense of her own life. Despite the Doctor and a team of medical experts monitoring her pregnancy, along with aid from the Volm, there were no guarantees it wouldn't happen again, that she would survive this.

"Tom," Vivien whispered, suddenly feeling very alone in the darkness. "Tom, wake up."

But Tom just grunted, turning to face her again, flinging his arm across her wide waist, his touch failing to dissipate her terror.

* * *

><p>When I die I will return to seek<br>The moments I did not live by the sea

_Vivien stood by the sea, cobalt eyes searching for the edge of the world. Sometimes she stood in the impatient water, staring up the moon, thinking of all she had lost. Yet as time trickled through her fingers, the water splashing at her feet, Vivien found a strange sort of peace amongst the silence. And in this peace, she began to slowly understand how things were tangled together, inseparable. The skies hurtled onwards, reminding her of a dream she once had where she wandered the stars, instead of listening to the forgotten songs of the sea._

_But she is alone. She is like the sea. Only the sea can understand being torn in two, of trying to reconcile two conflicting desires. And so the sea continues to call to her, a siren song of finding and forgetting. She remembers Rome with its history trapped in glorious decay; Versailles where the spirit of Reinette still walks the corridors looking for her lonely angel. Ghosts and lost girls waiting for the same man who is different but the same._

* * *

><p>"Everything is as it should be," the Doctor said, putting down the ultrasound scanner he'd adapted using technology gifted to him by Cochise, Tom's shoulders slumping with relief at his words, Vivien trying and failing to hide the fear still lingering in her eyes. The Doctor's gaze flickered over their faces, President and First Lady, a history professor and a school drop-out, the man who'd taken all the Doctor had left from him. Two such different people bringing a child into a broken world, its every heartbeat a victory...<p>

"That's... that's good," Tom said, exhaling sharply, words failing him. He then got up, giving Vivien's hand one last squeeze before dropping a kiss on her brow, then her bump, making the Doctor turn his back on them, disgusted by their domesticity. When Tom's footsteps had faded away, the Doctor turned around again, only to find himself face to face with Vivien's fear once more.

"You shouldn't rely on him so much," the Doctor said from between gritted teeth, picking up the pieces of their last fight.

"What, I should rely on you instead?" Vivien retorted.

"I'm trying to keep you and your child alive," the Doctor countered, fingers clenching into fists, "with mediocre medicine and even more mediocre technology. Even with the Volm's input, I don't have what I need. Every decision I make could end in your death. I'm clutching at straws here, Vivien, your very life reduced to a lucky dip" -

- "He can't know," Vivien said, panic tingeing her voice, "you can't tell him."

"He already knows you could lose the baby," the Doctor snapped, "so what's the point in not going the whole hog?"

Vivien looked away, unable to bear the intensity of his gaze.

"Maybe you should enlighten me on the vagaries of the human heart, because I sure as hell don't understand," the Doctor spat, "and I've got two of my own."

"Because it would kill him," Vivien said slowly, dangerously, raising her head, "and what might kill me can't kill us both."

The Doctor looked at her for a long moment. "That's the worst case scenario, Vivien," he said then tiredly, "you and the baby have made it this far. There's every chance you'll hold your child in your arms at the end of this."

"Whatever happens, the baby comes first," Vivien said quietly, "not me, her."

"Her?"

Vivien stared at him, shocked. "Her?" she echoed, confused.

"You called the baby a her," the Doctor said, sitting down on the edge of the bed. Fusing human and Volm technology had meant sacrificing fripperies, and he couldn't have told Tom and Vivien the gender of their child, even if they'd wanted to know.

Vivien just shook her head, eyes clouding over, her attention drifting. Then she looked up at the Doctor, fresh fear darkening her eyes, turning them violet. "But what happens if the Espheni _have _done something to the baby?" she asked, voice shaking. "I was three months pregnant when I went aboard that ship - and when I went after the TARDIS, I'd just fallen pregnant" -

The Doctor shook his head, denying the truth, lying with all his lives.

* * *

><p><em>But whilst the sea drew Vivien onwards, home pulled her backwards. She had her own blue doors now. One day she would open them and find her own wonders. Or so the Doctor had promised. In the night, she dreams of what lies beyond these doors and in the morning she awakes, fleeing downstairs and throwing them open. But all that awaits her is the same old streets. She tries to line the pavement with potential; who knows where that corner might lead to? But always, always, she finds herself running through these same old streets, blinded to the world by the tears falling from her eyes.<em>

_Those blue doors don't belong to her. Not yet. They are like a present unwrapped too soon. Why can't they wait like she waited? One day she will come home, with the dust of time on her feet and she will walk through those doors, happy, content, complete. She will have seen everything and touched every star. And when that dream comes true, these doors will truly belong to her._

_But they're there every morning, reminding her of her ungranted wishes. These doors are strangers. Not old friends, but almost enemies, mocking her for being left behind. She has lost the key to opening them. So they stand there too soon, never truly opened. They dream of a melody, of a future that may never be._

* * *

><p>Vivien shut the door to Anne's office behind her, before crossing the carpet, cradling her bump with one hand, and the small of her back with the other. She sank gratefully into the spacious depths of the leather armchair Tom had brought out of storage for her use, ruefully rubbing her aching arm. The monthly injection the Doctor gave her to boost her immune system would never be something she looked forward to. And despite her interrogation over its contents, he'd remained vague about its properties, only stating that it would shield her from most maladies. Tom had wanted the Doctor to distribute it to everyone in Charleston, but the Doctor had just turned a withering eye on him, saying <em>not everyone in Charleston is a pregnant hybrid<em>, effectively silencing Tom on the subject.

Upon entering her second trimester, she'd been confined to her bed, but the boredom and inactivity had done more harm than good, so the Doctor had reluctantly conceded to have Vivien back in the hospital. At least there he would be able to keep an eye on her. So Vivien had resumed her duties, diagnosing and treating minor injuries and illnesses, the booster shot protecting her from picking up any infections from her patients. The work kept her mind occupied, and she could come and go as she pleased, taking as many rest-breaks as she required. She was replaceable, so whenever she went off-duty, there would always be at least three people ready to relieve her.

But Vivien knew her presence was resented by the more senior doctors. They thought she was just a piece of ass climbing the social ladder by getting knocked up by the President, dirtying her hands at the hospital to make herself look good, turning the place into a permanent photo opportunity for the Mason dynasty. But Vivien wasn't sure how much longer she could keep doing her work, not with the rate her girth was increasing and ankles swelling. She was six months into her pregnancy and already feeling like a beached whale. Yet at the same time she was intensely grateful for every discomfort it brought her, for each one was a sign her baby was surviving.

Vivien glanced up as the door creaked open, irritated at being disturbed, only to see with some surprise that it was Tom.

"Hey," he said, closing the door quietly behind him.

"Hey," Vivien said, folding her hands over her belly, the baby kicking her in response.

Tom sat down on the edge of the desk, his gaze lingering on her, making her shift uncomfortably in her seat. It always made Vivien feel awkward when he looked at her like that, seeing beauty when there was none. Tom might have been leading a nation, but she always seen him for what he was, homely and awkward, overly tall and always tripping up on something every two seconds.

"I can't stay long," he said, glancing at the clock, "I have a meeting in ten."

"What about?"

"Project Orange," he said, running his hand across his beard.

"I suppose the Doctor will be there."

"Mmm," Tom said non-commitally, his secrecy getting on her last nerve. There was a lot he involved the Doctor in that he didn't see fit to enlighten her on. He liked to draw the line between home and work a little too strongly for her taste. But she believed it was more because of the issue of the Espheni mole. Sometimes in her less lucid moments she thought he suspected her of being it. She knew there were many who thought she was, but with Tom she couldn't be sure.

"I checked in on Hal on the way here," Tom said, startling her out of her thoughts. "There's... there's been no change." His face crumpled as he said this, his fingers gripping the edge of the desk, his knuckles turning white.

"I know," Vivien sighed heavily, tucking a strand of jet hair behind her ear, "I was talking to the physio this morning. She says it's still early days though."

Tom just looked away, not saying anything.

"I can speak to the Doctor again," Vivien then said tentatively, trying to turn the tide of his mood, leaning over and taking his hand. "Maybe he'll come up with something else" -

- "What are you doing tonight?" Tom asked abruptly.

Silence.

"Are you asking me out?" Vivien then tried to joke. "Bit late in the day for that though," she added, patting her bump for comedic effect.

To her relief, Tom laughed, even if it sounded slightly forced to her. She ran her thumb over the back of his large hand, trying as always not to see the gold wedding band he still wore out of loyalty to his late wife. Rebecca was a subject Vivien never attempted to broach. She knew she couldn't compete with a ghost, and she never tried. Rebecca had been the first and last woman in Tom's life, his beloved wife and mother of his sons. Vivien was almost an afterthought.

"I'll see you tonight," Tom said tiredly, before glancing up as the door opened, Lourdes standing awkwardly in the doorway. "Guess I better make tracks," he then said, nodding at Lourdes before kissing Vivien goodbye and leaving.

* * *

><p><em>Her eyes have seen so much, so far, her soul even further still. She remembers the stars. Oh, how she remembers. But inbetween forgetting and remembering, she becomes even more lost. The sea always claims the lost, and it claims her always. It whispers to her of all the wonders it has seen, all his promises reduced to driftwood scattered on the shore, his lying words dragging her down beneath the waves.<em>

_Sometimes it's dark, sometimes it's stormy. Sometimes she screams. Sometimes she sings, her high, clear voice carrying over the water. She hopes her daughter hears her, to know that she's remembered. Sometimes she dances by the light of the moon. Sometimes the sea screams with her. Sometimes it sings a lullaby to the stars asking them to watch over a lost little girl. There is a whole universe in that melody, a whole universe of stars to guide her home._

* * *

><p>Vivien forced herself to smile at Larry and his son.<p>

"That's you done," she said, sitting down, choking down her sigh of relief. "The stitches will dissolve on their own, but any problems, come right back."

Larry just nodded, the sight of his black eye making her want to take a frying pan of her own to his wife. Taking his son by the hand, he then left the cubicle, Vivien watching him go with a heavy heart. This was the umpteenth time he'd come to her for treatment. His wife had a habit of getting too merry down at what Vivien called Pope's Playground, wasting the family income on alcohol, before returning home and taking her rage at the world out on her husband. She never laid a finger on her son - yet - and her husband had once again refused the help Vivien had offered him, saying he had the situation under control.

She didn't think he did though, not with the size of that gash she'd had to stitch up. But beyond repeatedly offering assistance, promising him a housing transfer and protection, she didn't know what else to do. Back at the beginning, she'd told Tom, and he'd had the woman arrested, but Larry had refused to press charges, leaving Tom with no other option but to release her. After that, Tom had seemed to wash his hands of the situation. Depending on what it was, Tom had a habit of sidelining stuff - she'd heard Hal recall more than once how his father used to miss lacrosse matches and hockey dinners he'd previously promised to attend. If it didn't suit him, he'd sideline it.

As of now, he was almost sidelining his sons, leaving them largely to their own devices, Vivien picking up the slack. He did keep a haphazard eye on them, especially Hal, but all his energy was focused on Vivien and the baby, as well as winning the war. In regards to the civilians' welfare, he'd ensured there were decent living standards for all. Everybody that could contribute was fairly paid for their work, and those that couldn't were cared for. He provided them with free housing, healthcare and education, but other than that, he didn't take a deeper interest in their lives. Vivien wasn't sure she could expect him to, he was only one man, not God, but when she was confronted by the ugly side of Charleston, she couldn't help but want him to wave a magic wand or something, or anything.

But she unwillingly understood why Tom had distanced himself from the issue of Larry. It was too close to home, reminding him of the rages his drunken father used to throw. It had been during their snatched nights together back at the school, when Tom wasn't on sentry duty, that she'd first seen the scars on his back, the sight sickening her. So she tried to deal with the situation on her own, only to fail miserably.

* * *

><p><em>She is still lost. Her daughter is lost. Her existence is lost. But by the sea, she can see it on the horizon, the glory, the finding. The potential nearly drives her mad. So she screams louder. She sings louder. And the night becomes darker and darker. She tells the sea of her life behind blue doors that hate her. She dreams of both, her daughter and the glory.<em>

_But as for Tom, he wants one but not the other. He would hate the Doctor but he loves her and she loves the Doctor and therefore he cannot hate what she loves._ _Yet these blue doors continue to divide her from him. She wants to run. He wants to stay. But she dreams of those blue doors, with her baby in her arms, beholding the stars. She wants both, she needs both. How can she relinquish what was promised to her, what is forged in the soul of her daughter? _

* * *

><p>Vivien examined her reflection critically, wondering if she'd overdone it with the eyeliner, before turning her back on the mirror. She would never be a beauty, so there was no point in trying to be. Make-up lent her a deceptive glamour, her dramatic colouring distracting from the defects of her features, but she knew her limits. Nothing could ever change her beaky nose and defiant chin, or the way her buck teeth made the top half of her mouth jut out, her pointed ears emphasizing her otherworldly face. She looked faerie, or so the Doctor said, and not in a good way. Yet Tom seemed to think she was top drawer beautiful, something she could never comprehend.<p>

She sat down on the cracked white leather sofa, resting her hand on her bump for reassurance. She'd changed out of her work clothes and into something more suitable, a crimson cashmere dress Tom had given her as an inauguration present, teaming it with black boots and leggings, sensing something in the wind. Part of her suspected a proposal, but the rest of her dismissed the idea as tosh.

She didn't think Tom would marry again, least of all her. He was the type to only marry once, not twice. She knew he was committed to her, but there were cracks in his commitment. He'd wanted to resurrect the relationship because of the baby, not because of any great love for her. So far they'd muddled along, but the relationship was still under strain. If it wasn't their terror over losing the baby, it was Tom's worry over the war or something else altogether. She still loved him but sometimes she thought love wouldn't be enough to save them.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

Vivien started violently as Tom sat down beside her.

"Sorry," Vivien then said, trying to recover herself. "I was away in another world there - I didn't even hear you come in."

"What were you thinking about?" Tom half teased, pulling her onto his lap with some difficulty. "You looked very serious."

"Hmmm," Vivien said, turning her face away from his.

"Hey, what's up?" he asked, concerned now.

"How come you're home so early?" Vivien asked, trying to change the subject.

"Never mind about that, what's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"It doesn't look like nothing to me."

Vivien looked at Tom, her gaze travelling over his irregular features, his long, drooping nose, and those dark eyes that always saw right through her. "I was just thinking about... us," she admitted unwillingly, resting her hand on her bump again.

Tom laid his own large hand on top of hers, something about the possessiveness of the gesture making her glance sharply at him. But he deflected the glance, focusing instead on her bump. "What about us?" he said almost carelessly, like he didn't care, not really. But Vivien knew better. She knew him better. Behind the nonchalance, a storm was building.

"I don't know if we're going to make it," she said bluntly. "And I don't mean the fate of the human race. I mean us, you and me."

"What makes you think we won't?"

"Let's not delude ourselves, Tom," Vivien snapped, taking her tension out on him. "You're only giving this another go because you knocked me up, not because you particularly wanted to."

"So you think I'm only with you out of a sense of duty?" Tom said dangerously.

"Yes and no."

"Yes and no?"

"Come off it, Tom," Vivien spat. "You can barely keep your hands off me half the time. I guess that sweetens the deal for you, even if it's currently tantamount to a starvation diet" -

To her extreme annoyance, Tom started laughing, not the forced laughter of earlier, but a proper, hearty laugh that she hadn't heard for a long time.

"What the hell's so funny?" she demanded, pulling her hand out of his.

"You," he said with great difficulty, "I always said you were mental and nothing's changed."

"I'm being completely serious here!"

"And so am I," he said earnestly, grabbing her hand again.

Vivien glared at him, not understanding beneath her anger.

"I am in love with you, Vi," he said, almost speaking to her like she was an imbecile, "I love you. I've been in love with you ever since I first saw those ridiculous photos of you. You were gurning in them for chrissake, but I didn't care - I was gone. I still am. I want you and I want this baby. Do I need to spell it out any further for you?"

"But you said we should only try to make it work for the baby" -

- "Because I thought that was the only way of getting you back," Tom said, exasperated. "Otherwise I would have lost you."

"Oh."

For a long moment they just looked at one another, before Vivien rested her head against his shoulder, suddenly feeling very stupid. "Well, that's alright then," she said awkwardly, "because I feel the same. I mean, I love you as in I am in love with you and I want to be with you and I want this baby too, I want it very much, maybe too much." She stopped short, realising she was rambling, but Tom just kissed the side of her head, wrapping his other arm around her middle.

* * *

><p><em>The sea understands. The sea is lost. But the sea can return. So Vivien dances by the shore, she sings by the sea. Alone and unbound and unfettered. She loves him but he belongs behind those blue doors that are not yet hers, that are there every morning waiting for tomorrow as she waits for yesterday. She waits for her child to come home, for a mad man with a box to keep his promises.<em>

_She seeks the impossible by the sea._

* * *

><p>Vivien and Tom walked hand in hand along the empty, echoing streets, the moon high above them. The two of them were laughing, drunk on their own happiness, Vivien pulling Tom into a doorway before pulling his face down to hers, wrapping her arms around his neck, fingers becoming entangled in his dark hair. After the revelation he still felt the same as she did, it was if a huge weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Now she was almost delirious with hope for the future, making her feel like she was invincible. If the Doctor had seen her in that moment, he would have said she was heading for a fall.<p>

But in that moment, she didn't care. She didn't care that Tom would be pushing fifty in a few years, that her own youth were being wasted by war, the madness of being twenty something and having everything she ever wanted overcoming reason. She would survive this pregnancy; she would hold her child in her arms. Tom would lead the world into a new age, the Espheni becoming nothing more than a footnote in human history. She and Tom would grow old together, there would be other children, then grandchildren, and she'd tell them the story of a mad man and his blue box, how she'd run away into the stars with him.

"I thought you were keeping me on a starvation diet," Tom murmured.

"Feast or famine?" Vivien said provocatively before pulling his face down to hers again.

* * *

><p><em>Storm-clouds were gathering on the horizon, disturbing the sea's still surface.<em>

_"It's not time yet," she said calmly, lifting her hand from Vivien's cheek. "You have to wake up."_

_Vivien turned away from her daughter. _

_"Wake up," Alexis said quietly, _"wake up."

* * *

><p>"Here, this is what I wanted to show you," Tom said, leading her up the stairs to an imposing old house. Maybe in its heyday, it would have been beautiful, but now it was ravaged beyond recognition, almost indistinguishable from the rest of ruined Charleston. Part of its roof was missing, its facade blackened by smoke. The only thing that made it stand out was its still bright blue front doors, reminding her of the TARDIS, the memory like a kick in the head. She stood on the bottom step, staring at them, remembering all that she'd lost, all that she would be surrendering.<p>

"You alright?" Tom asked, brow furrowing in concern.

Vivien shook her head, forcing a smile onto her face. "I'm just surprised these houses are still standing," she said, letting go of his hand.

"The housing committee are planning to expand the civilian quarters to here, though obviously there needs to be extensive rebuilding and renovating done before that can happen," Tom explained, pulling a set of keys out of his great-coat pocket. "But this house is... well, it's mine. I mean, I acquired it. Rather... rather recently."

Vivien raised her eyebrows questioningly, but he chose to focus rather too fervently on opening the doors intead. As they stepped inside, Vivien ran her fingers over the scarred, blue wood, remembering another life, another time. As though in answer, the baby kicked her, making her hand fly to her belly instead.

"I think I've got a footballer in here," she said, making Tom grin.

"I don't think I could cope with another jock in the family," he joked, leading her down the dark hallway and into a dimly lit drawing room.

Vivien turned unsteadily on the spot, clutching Tom's arm for support. The room was fully furnished and surprisingly clean, its surfaces free of dust, its corners clear of cobwebs. It looked like something out of an old English manor house, with oak panelling lining the walls and red velvet drapes hanging from the windows. Letting go of Tom's arm, she went over to an antique looking sideboard, picking up a music box and turning it over in her hands.

"There's room for a piano over there," Tom said, jerking his head at a far corner, Vivien looking at him quizzically.

But again, he just pretended not to notice, crossing the floor and taking her hand, leading her out into another hallway and up an oaken staircase. As he guided her through another doorway, Vivien froze at the sight of the open sky in front of her, a cool breeze ruffling her black hair. She stared at Tom, horrified he would bring her here to a wrecked room open to the elements, but he just shook his head, dismissing her fears.

"It's alright, it's completely safe," he said, "just don't go near the edge."

"Don't worry, I have no intentions of doing so," Vivien retorted, still shook up.

Tom just stepped forwards, shoulders slightly hunched. For a long moment he stared out at the river winding out into the distance. "I come here a lot," he said more to himself than her, "to be on my own, to think..." His voice trailed off as he realised how that sounded.

But Vivien held her hand out to him, something in his dark eyes making her relent. "It's alright," she said, "we all need somewhere quiet to just... be."

He smiled crookedly, before taking her hand, drawing her to him. Wrapping his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder, the two of them stood there, staring up at the soaring night sky, watching the moon high above.

"This war," Tom said in a low voice, "with the Volm onside, there's a very real chance we could win it."

But Vivien wasn't listening, his voice fading from her future as she remembered the past. She used to wander the stars, so young and broken, trying to save worlds when she couldn't even save herself. And here she was, full circle, the stars so close yet so far...

"I could win this war for you," Tom whispered, his lips brushing her throat, bringing her back to earth with a jolt. As he buried his face in her hair, she wondered uneasily if that been part of the attraction to him, the power he held in his hands. "Once this is all over, we can start again," he then said quietly, raising his head, leaning his bearded cheek against her smooth one instead, not sensing her unease.

"What here? In this house?"

"Yes," Tom said in a rush, "once everything was back on track, when it'd be safe for me to - I'd - I'd resign. I'd give up the Presidency. If they opened up the universities again, I could go back to teaching. We could live here and raise a family - if you wanted to, that is."

Vivien stared out at the far horizon, swallowing hard. Right now she was living in a bubble, Tom and the baby both part of her limited landscape, war reducing her reality to a ruined city that might out survive her. The future Tom had just outlined was one she had imagined for herself, one that she wanted. But bringing her to this house had hit home. There would be no more wandering the stars, no more being with the Doctor. Once the war was won, he would walk away. Being with Tom would mean giving up the Doctor. But she'd already given him up by falling pregnant. Time machines didn't exactly come with nappy-changing facilities.

"Can you really see me as the wife of a dean?" she said half-jokingly, trying to close the blue doors on the past.

"I can actually," Tom said, forcing a laugh, her delayed reaction more telling than words.

"Maybe you should take up writing novels then," she said, "with an imagination like that, you'd be outselling Stephen King."

"If I could, I'd write us a happy ending," Tom said quietly, wincing slightly at how corny he sounded.

"Clichéd but true," Vivien said smartly, trying to end the awkward moment.

Tom just nodded, realising it was ruined, that Vivien wasn't where he was. She didn't seem to realise that she was what got him through the long days, the one thing that kept him holding on. He had his sons, but this was different. They were either men or almost men, Matt growing up so fast as it was. Soon they would be leading their own lives, living their own futures, a future he was fighting this war for. He lived for his boys, and they would always be his boys, but Vivien was his second chance, the next chapter of his story. The loss of Rebecca was still raw and achingly so, but he knew he had to let go, to live on -

He glanced down at the gold band on his finger, his heart twisting in his chest, all his resentment towards Vivien fading. Of course she wasn't where he was. Even as he dreamed of a future with Vivien, he was still living in the past; living out the moments he could not live with Rebecca.


End file.
